


Life Together

by joyster



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending, Cop!Katara, Domestic Fluff, Embers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Lawyer!Zuko, Married Life, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Zutara Smut Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 18:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyster/pseuds/joyster
Summary: far better than a life apartThey built a home, built a life because of the embers. The warmth that was persistent. The love that was persistent.





	Life Together

**Author's Note:**

> The Cop/Lawyer dynamic is entirely inspired by Brooklyn 99 (I’m trash for Peralta x Santiago but I did like Sophia) 
> 
> little disclaimer, this is my first time writing smut… so be gentle I guess
> 
> unbeta'd so sorry in advance.  
> Honestly I have no idea how to feel about this but I hope someone out there likes it haha

There was something about coming home, crossing the threshold into a space she had curated (with some help) that made the tension of the day ease almost instantly.  
She hadn't bothered changing out of her uniform at the precinct; she knew her husband appreciated the way she looked in the uniform, even if his first thought was to get it off her because damn those stupid cops complicating his work days. 

She finished later than him that night, so he'd be making dinner. The porch light flickered on, sensing her presence. She'd undone a few of her buttons on the way over, her hat was sitting on the passenger seat of her car. Through the frosted glass panel of the front door she could tell he was 'saving power' again (she knew it was just an excuse for candles, but she humoured him). When she opened the door the house smelt like a sugary campfire (he had a habit of collecting scented candles, this one was one of his most recent finds, inspired by s'mores). She dropped her bag on the low table by the door and kicked her shoes off underneath it. Their home was a reasonable size, the front door opened straight into an open living area, a leather sofa a large television central to the space. The large candle sat, pride of place, on the buffet table with the only other light emanating from the kitchen which was separate but had an archway instead of a door and a semi-circle cut out that right above the couch so they could converse easily while one or the other cooked. 

Evidently, he hadn’t heard her come in. 

He was in the kitchen, humming to himself. The tune was familiar, where had she heard it before? 

“AND DIEEEEE”

Ah… that’s where. 

She stifled a giggle and lent against the wall. He had half the buttons on his white dress shirt undone, untucked and the sleeves pushed up over his elbows. He has his tie almost undone and unceremoniously flung over his shoulder. His hair was loose and swayed slightly as he cooked. She inhaled deeply through her nose. Stir fry.

He heard her chuckle and looked up, almost embarrassed. 

“I didn’t hear you pull up.”

“You don’t say,” she laughed, sauntering into the kitchen, wrapping herself around his back as he took the wok off the heat. “Don’t stop singing on my accord Zuko.” 

He raises his unscathed brow at her, gives a deadpan expression and points the spoon at her. 

“Looks great,” she remarks and he puffed up with something akin to pride. He raises the wooden spoon he’d been mixing with to her lips but not before blowing on it softly to cool it down. She slides under his arm to stand by his side, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“Good?”

“Mmm, really good. You’re improving.” 

They’d been married three years, together six. In that time he’d gone from trying to pass take out off as home cooking to serving food overcooked to the point of almost inedible(she’d still eat it and encourage him but he even managed to burn tea once) to a promising home cook. 

“I’m glad.” He looks down at her and smirks, “would you have arrested me otherwise, officer?”

“Yes, poisoning me with your cooking does sound an awful lot like attempted murder.”

He serves up and they carry their bowls and chopsticks to the dining table. 

“You don’t want to change before dinner?” he inquires. 

“Should I?” she feigns naivety, batting long lashes at him as she raises her chopsticks to her lips. 

He undoes his tie. Holding either end, he swings the red fabric over her head, using it to pull her towards him. He rests his forehead against hers and says in teasing seriousness, “Don’t make me draft a no-uniforms-at-home amendment into our marital contract, because I’ll do it”

She exaggerates a gasp, “you haven’t the jurisdiction!”

He smirks, “you’d be surprised,”

“I’ll lodge an appeal.” 

“I have a feeling the courts will be in my favour.” 

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer,” 

He pulls on the tie, a broad smile splitting his face, “I _am_ your lawyer,” he nips the juncture of  
her neck and jaw before letting her go. 

She giggles before pouting playfully and getting up, “who ever said the law was fair? THIS IS COLLUSION!” 

“Go change!” He laughs, throwing his tie at her. She catches it and holds it taut across the back of her neck, poking her tongue out at him as she sashayed out of the room. 

When she comes back a few minutes later she’s in his university sweatshirt and panties; there is a cute animal print all over the sensible brief. Her long tan legs are all strong curves and the sweatshirt is dress length on her; his heart tightens because it’s these moments, as she parades around with penguins on her butt, that he can’t believe how lucky he is that she married him. He’s never seen anything quite as beautiful as Katara like that - completely carefree and safe in their home. 

He smiles as her. He’d gotten a bottle of red wine in the short interlude and passes her a glass as she settles back into her chair. She smiles back as he kisses her on the cheek, muttering “much better”, and then undoes her neat and practical bun so her hair is free and unbidden – like her spirit. 

They eat in an amenable silence mostly.

\- - - 

“How’s the Hughes case going?”  
“Very slowly, the senior partners are starting to get antsy about it.”

\- - - 

“Mm- that armed robbery; did you get any new leads?”  
“Right now it’s looking like it was the butler… I really hope it is him… Imagine actually being able to say, ‘The Butler did it’”.

\- - - 

Their evening ends in front of the television, the have been watching shows together for years now, he knows how mad she gets if he watches ahead and she's seen the kicked puppy look he does when she does the same to him. The screen goes black on the final episode and they sit in silence, mouths agape, questioning how exactly they're supposed to go on now that it's done. It’s a rewatch of an old favourite but that doesn't change the earth shifting quality a finale has.

“I forgot how dissatisfied I was with the ending…” he mumbles and she hums in agreement. 

He’s slouched on the sofa, all the buttons on his shirt undone now, his pants unfastened, and leaning on the armrest with his chin resting against his fist. 

“It’s like every time we watch it I think she’s going to choose the other guy.” She’s been sitting sideways for the last twenty minutes, her legs bent, one wound between his, the other being held by his arm flush to his chest. She’d taken the sweatshirt off, wearing just her fitted white singlet on top. They’d been married for long enough that this sort of thing was normal. Sure they were still insanely attracted to each other but sometimes it was nice to just lounge together in various states of undress without feeling the need to jump each other’s bones. 

The house is a pleasant quiet; only the soft lull of the refrigerator, occasional sputters of the candle or the sound of a car driving past interrupting the comfortable silence.

She’s tracing his scar with her index finger and he’s resting back, eyes closed. She flutters a kiss on his closed scarred eye and he lets out a content sigh. 

“I love you.” 

She giggles, “Even though I’m a cop?”

“Your one flaw,” he declares, pulling her into his lap.

They make out like teenagers, hands roaming everywhere with youthful exuberance.  
Zuko realises, opening one eye and looking over her shoulder, that he can see the delicious reflection of his wife straddling him on the tv screen. The little green on-light on the television and the campfire candle are the only light in the room other than the moonlight that sneaks through the cut out in the wall from the kitchen’s skylight, but it’s enough for the screen to behave like a black mirror, reflecting the image of the couple. He grabs a handful of her ass and she undulates her hips against his growing erection. She leans back on her haunches, pulling him forward by his shirt before yanking it off his shoulders so he matches her in just a white singlet. She kisses him again but notices he seems distracted. 

“What are you looking at?” The question ends up rhetorical. She looks over her shoulder following his gaze, chocolate curls tumbling down her back as she does so. “Were you _watching_ us making out?” 

She turns back to him and he shrugs and winks at her. 

He leans in close, licking his lips subtly before speaking with a voice barely above a whisper; it has a rasp to it that she’s always loved. Even when she hated him she loved that rasp and the way he’d drawl. The way her name sounded on his lips was the best she’d ever heard it. 

“You see, _Katara_ , It is _quite_ a show” 

He lets go of her ass only to bring his palm back to give her it a firm smack. She plays scandalised for a moment, arching her back and jutting out her chest, pushing her breasts together as she brings her fingertips to her full lower lip. He grabs both her wrists, reminding her distinctly of a time long before (back when he was just an associate and they couldn’t stand each other but he had to “save her”) and kisses her, hungrily. He bucks his hips and she can’t help but let out a soft whimper. He’s still restraining her wrists between them but they’re so close and her finger tips can still reach his face. He doesn’t let go of her as his lips stray from hers, peppering hot, open mouthed kisses across her jaw and biting her earlobe. She lets out a heady sigh and lets her head roll back, exposing more of her neck to him. She rocks her hips against his; she’s already wet and waiting. 

He’s toying with her. Willing herself to open an eye and glance at him as he proceeds to lavish her torso with attention she notices once again his eyes are trained on the television. She arches her back, pushing her ass out. Then she looks over her shoulder, making eye contact with him in the screen and rolls her hips, and in fact her whole body, against him. Her breasts are heaving just below his chin. Her hardening nipples rake across his clavicle and she lets out a restrained, throaty moan. 

**That** gets his attention. 

He tears himself away from her shoulder and releases her wrists. Firmly seizing her by the waist and tipping her body back he catches one of her nipples in his mouth through her thin top. The thick strapped singlet was already working hard, the fabric going semi-sheer over the swells of her breasts. He teases with his tongue and relishes in the wanton noises that echo through the quiet house. He’s leaning forward and she’s wrapped her legs around his torso. He’s drawing semicircles on her ribcage with his thumbs. 

Her fingers tangle in his hair as he switches sides, attending to the other nipple and leaving her left breast sensitive as it rubbed against damp fabric. She makes a pleading noise in the back of her throat and he pushes the singlet up and over her chest to kiss her skin. He runs impossibly warm fingers along her torso. She heaves him back up by the straps of his top to kiss him again.  
Pulling away, seemingly to catch her breath, she looks at him. He’s smirking slightly, cocky, with slightly swollen lips. Then she leans over to his ear and starts to dismount his lap.

“You, my love, are overdressed.”

She looks at him wickedly as his eyes widen slightly and his smirk turns into a coy smile. 

She pulls his suit pants down by slowly crawling away, ass swinging in the air, and pulling on a belt loop with her teeth. She inches back up his body, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock through his tented boxers then continuing kissing up his toned torso before pressing a kiss to his lips. He growls into her mouth and she steps away. 

It’s her turn to toy with him. 

They’d started trying for a baby. Not in a serious rushed way, they weren’t worrying with tracking ovulation yet but she’d stopped taking birth control, he’d started wearing boxers more.

She stands in front of him, illuminated in the golden candle light. 

She tousles her hair with one hand and cups a breast with the other, all the while smiling devilishly down at him. 

He’s breathing heavily.

“You’re a vision Katara,” His long fingers are outstretched to her. Love is intermingled with the lust in his eyes. 

She bends down and places her face to his hand, first kissing his palm, then each of his digits.

She looks back at his face, golden eyes watch her intently. 

So she engulfs his middle finger in her mouth, sucking as she drew it out. He moans. She straightens up and guides his hand down her body, dragging the wet finger over her erect nipple. 

“Take your top off.”

It’s a simple order and he complies eagerly. 

She catches his eyes flick to the screen again as she sways her hip impatiently. An impish smile plays on her features.

 _I’ll give him something to look at_.

“Those too,” she points at the silky black boxers and his cocky smirk is back. 

She bites her lip as he slowly pulls them down, revealing his thick, hard member. 

He looks all-together too pleased with himself, resting back on the black leather couch wearing nothing but a smile and sporting a substantial erection. 

His eyes dart down to her baby blue briefs and they both can’t help but laugh a little bit. He leans forward to remove them for her but she swats his hand away playfully. 

“No,” she tries to conceal the arousal in her voice to meagre success. “You’ve been so infatuated with our reflection tonight. So now we’re going to play by my rules.” Her firm tone is undercut by her easy smile and dark eyes. 

“Yes, _officer_ ” Her smile broadens and he returns it. 

“Maybe I should’ve brought the hat in,” she muses, toying with her waistband. 

_Next time_ , he mouths and she turns her back to him. Staring at the black screen and slowly removes her drenched undergarments. Tan fingers caressing toned tan thighs and presenting a round ass to an eager audience. She watched his reaction in the screen, he bites onto his fist and suppresses a moan and she loves it. 

He expects her to turn around. They were big fans of kissing during sex and frankly he liked watching her face contort with the pleasure he was giving her. 

Instead she walks backwards, slowly and with purpose. She situates herself between his legs and looks down trying to work out the least awkward way for her to get where she wanted to be. 

Strong hands grasp her hips and she thinks he might have coined on.  
She bends one leg and slides it back. She repeats, using his grip to stop herself falling over. Her ass pushes against his toned stomach. She reaches down and aligns him at her entrance. He presses a little kiss to her neck. 

They make eye contact in the television screen. 

She sinks down onto him. 

They gasp in harmony and she rolls against him like a wave. His hands move from her hips to roam her body; one capturing a breast mid bounce, pinching the nipple and kneading the tender flesh, the other curling just above where they’re joined and strokes her clit in time with the rhythm of her hips. She starts achingly slowly, holding first his forearms to stay upright, then his thighs. He’s off the back of the sofa, sitting forward so her legs have somewhere to go. 

It takes a little getting used to – being able to watch themselves have sex. But it’s exciting and different and _erotic_. 

As she picks up the pace she leans further forward giving him a better view of her ass and the perfect dimples at the base of her spine. He removes his hand from her breast and instead traces up her spine then holds her hair tenderly so it doesn’t get sweaty.  
The sound of the refrigerator is drowned out by the slick sound of skin slapping against skin and low, urgent pleas for more. 

She swirls her hips and he chokes out a curse. He peppers her back with kisses and rolls her clit just the way she likes. 

She’s getting close, so is he. 

He grabs hold of her hips, her arms propping her up from halfway down the sofa. He unsheathes fully only to thrust back in deeply and she lets out a breathy mewl. She rolls her hips to meet him, their pace frantic and desperate. Her breathing is rapid, he bites her shoulder and she comes, trembling and shrieking his name.  
“I want-” his words are thick and choked, “-to kiss you” and she turns around and straddles him; still hazy from her orgasm but eager to give him his release.  
It’s a hard and drawn out kiss, her nipples are teasing his chest and she’s caressing his face and raking her nails up his back. Their pace is relentless, he buries his face in her shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut before she purrs _“come for me baby”_ into his ear and he has his release. He flops back into the couch, arms tight around her torso, dragging her with him and kissing her softly. She slides off him as he lies down length ways and then curls into his side, content and satisfied.

\- - - 

The candlelight has withered down to just embers as they bask in their afterglow. They share long, languid (and drowsy) kisses. Her singlet is still hiked up above her breasts and his tailored suit pants are still half caught up around his ankle.

“I’ll clean the couch properly before work tomorrow…” she mumbles and his ensuing chuckle into her neck reverberates throughout her body.

She readjusts her top, there are two translucent circles over her nipples and shoots him a playfully scolding look.

There is something, he muses as he watches his barely clothed wife pick up their discarded clothes and head for their bedroom, to the smouldering embers. There is something wonderful about that warmth that persists after the wild unbidden passion of fire.

Not to say that he didn’t love the flames and being consumed but it was no way to live. The sex was always incredible but he didn’t marry her because of their sexual chemistry alone. 

They built a home, built a life because of the embers. The warmth that was persistent. The love that was persistent.

He’d never lose interest in her. He fell more and more in love every day.


End file.
